Needlework
Now why was he here again? That was what Hidehiro thought as he sat beaide his aunt, needle and thread on his hands with a cloth that he was supposed to be decorating with nice little stiches. Indeed, he had arrived upon invitation, assuming Shizuka wanted to have a nice tea time with him, to have company and somone to talk to. Whoch of course was not something the tall atchivist would be opposed to. But he had not expcted to be handed these items, to suddenly be taught how to make intrigue patterns out of colorful threads. His hands were not made for this, even thought he did have delicate fingers, he preferred to use them to turn page after page of a book or shift documents. Yet, he could not bring himself to say no. His aunt, the fragile looking lady, seemed to enjoy her little lessons. And the mor she explained him what he was to do, the more exited she seemed to become, as if there had not been anyone else she could try and teach this art of design. Certainly Rukia-sama would be more preferable person for her to feed this knowledge, but the younger Kuchiki had now far more responsibilities to be taught something a noble woman should know. Thus, it seemed that Shizuka had chosen the second best option as her victim. Hidehiro continued to stare the fabric on his hands. The stiching was awkward, nothing like the example he had been shown and his fingers were almost bleeding from having the needle stuck on the multiple times. It was probably not best to mention that the silk that once were snow white was partially stained red. The woman next to the man had a smile on her face that reached all the way to her eyes, as if she was satisfied with the moment. The sloth on her hands had perfcetly stiched picture of colorful flowers that certainly would be considered a master piece among her peers. Shizuka was soon finished and she turned to look at her nephew and his work. The smile she had grew wider, and she shook her head. Certainly the work was unfinished but she could see what he was trying. It was enough for her. Out of all the Kuchiki, beside her son, it was Hidehiro whom came to visit her, bring a moment of brightness to her lonely days. She chuckled a bit. The archivist was, to no end a man who enjoyed written things and it showed. "Arigatou, Hidehiro-san. We can stop for the day, and you can finish your work the next time, let us enjoy some tea." As soon as the archivist would leave Shizuka would finish the little thing the man had tried to make; an image of a book on the silk.
